


The Love We Give, The Love We Take

by anyWaffle



Category: Bright (2017)
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, aaaah how do tags work?, cute its cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-27 18:09:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13886295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyWaffle/pseuds/anyWaffle
Summary: A collection of stories about Kandomere and you and the ways you love each other. Based on my love languages headcanons for Kandomere on tumblr, there should be ten chapters in all~





	1. You Can Call

Giving - Acts of Service

It has been a Day. Every conceivable thing that could go wrong has gone wrong and you’re on the verge of tears, sitting in your broke down car on the side of the highway. You just got off the phone with AAA and apparently it’ll be two hours at least until a tow truck can be out your way. You eye the clock on your cell hesitantly and mark the time, 9pm. Great. Hot, frustrated tears are streaking down your cheeks before you can even think to stop them. 

You just want to go home. So many things have gone sideways today and you have to wonder why it’s so much to ask that one thing can go right. You want out of these stupid shoes that rub your heels wrong, out of the shirt some ass spilled an entire cup of coffee on almost as soon as you’d reached work, want to wash the day down the drain and curl up on the couch or in bed with something other than a granola bar or handful of candy to fill your rumbling stomach, want rest, want an end to what has been a monumentally shitty day.

You try to wipe at your tears even as your stomach starts to growl and your heart falls further. Some of this could definitely be chalked up to being hangry but honestly it’s just a cherry on top of the craptastic Sunday you’ve been served. Feeling defeated you thump your head against the steering wheel and hope you’ll cry yourself out before the tow truck arrives. What’s a headache and red eyes on top of everything else anyway? Annoying sure but not the worst to happen. Perhaps, you muse, you’ll even be able to coast through the rest of the evening in emotionally exhausted apathy. 

Relieved at the decision to let it all out, and the ensuing sobs that begin to bubble up as you ruminate on the day, you nearly miss the sound of change rattling as your phone begins to vibrate in the cup holder beside you. Scrubbing at your eyes you look to see who’s calling and feel your stomach flip flop strangely, not quite anxious, not quite ecstatic, but also measures of both.

Kandomere, his name bordered with little heart emojis because you’re a sap, is calling you.

That perhaps shouldn’t be so surprising. He’s been your boyfriend for two months now and you’ve had your fair share of phone calls, text messages, and a couple of accidental facetimes. Sometimes that’s the most contact you have with him for days at a time actually, which makes you appreciate them all the more. But the last week and a half he’s been so busy with work you’ve probably seen him all of 30 minutes combined, and besides the daily good morning and good night text messages you’ve tried not to bother him. Perhaps it was silly but you didn’t want to seem clingy, didn’t want to scare him off as it were. 

That thought occurred to you even now in your compromised state and you tried to pull yourself together, get the waver out of your voice before you swiped to answer.

“Hello?” his voice echoed for a moment, the crackle of static followed by a smooth sort of soft white noise that let you know he was likely driving, Bluetooth filling the cab of his car with your voice. 

“Hey,” you managed, proud of how steady you sounded. “What’s up?”

“Have you eaten? I know it’s last minute but work ended earlier than I anticipated.” 

That 9pm is early simultaneously makes you want to laugh and cry but you try to hold back on either since the latter is more likely. You sigh, thinking again about your sorry state, and lean against the wheel again, suddenly feeling so much heavier, so much more tired. His offer is so sweet, and you’re starving and you miss him but also you are stuck and more importantly you’re miserable. That’s probably not something he’d want to deal with after a long day’s work, right? You can feel the tears trying to sting at your eyes again and do your best to push them back. 

“Wish I could,” you say, coughing to cover the crack in your voice. “But I’m…a little uh… busy?” The words try to catch in your throat and you have to swallow down hard to make room for them. There’s just something about voicing it, about mentioning your misfortune that’s making you nervous, making you feel like it might swallow you up. “Thanks though,” you try to say but your voice cracks again, followed by a hiccough, and then you’re crying once more, trying desperately to stop before he notices. 

You hear your name through the receiver once, twice, Kandomere’s voice laced with worry. “What’s wrong, darling? Talk to me.” 

“I’m stuck!” you finally force out. “Today has been garbage and I want to go home but my stupid car broke down and I’m stuck and hungry and the tow won’t be here for two hours and I just… I just.” Your words cut off in a sob full of sadness and exhaustion and frustration at dumping that all on him so suddenly and so loudly.   
A beat of silence passes, ostensibly for him to absorb all you said but also possibly give you time to calm down, and then he speaks again with that level voice you’re so used to. 

“Where are you?”

Your brain stalls for a moment while you try again to stop the flood that’s started and once it catches up to the implications of that question you feel that strange anxiousness again. “You don’t… You don’t have to. I’m a mess and.. you don’t-” 

“Where are you?” he asks again, cutting of your scattered babbling. “I’m not just going to leave you out there alone.”  
The finality of his tone put your remaining protests to rest and you give him an approximation of your location. 

“Fifteen minutes,” he tells you. “Will you be alright till I get there?”

“Yeah.”

“I will see you soon then.”

He hangs up and you slump back into your seat. How is it even possible to be this tired? You’re torn still, between wanting to see him and not wanting him to see you in this state, but there’s not much to do now. You do what you can to make yourself look presentable again, pull a cardigan from the back to cover your ruined shirt, try to order your hair, scrub the tears from your face. There’s nothing to be done about your bloodshot eyes and you can feel the inevitable headache trying to start so with nothing left to do you close your eyes and try to rest. 

You almost scream when he knocks on your window, body lurching up while your mind slowly comes back from the drowsy haze of near sleep. 

“Did I scare you?” he asks in a tone that’s almost amused when you open the door. 

You laugh a little, embarrassed, and step into his offered embrace without a word. The press of your body into his coupled with a deep breath does wonders for your ailing soul and you want him closer, arms squeezing gently around his middle. He smooths his palms down your back, light and gentle and unmistakably there. The warmth of his body and security you feel in his arms flood you with a relief so strong you almost start crying again, can feel the tears threatening to come in some final burst of catharsis.   
You go to pull back, refusing to shed tears on a suit that probably costs as much as your shitty car or more, but he stops you short, keeps you close with one arm around your waist while his free hand tilts your face up towards him and you find yourself caught in that moon bright gaze. 

“This certainly won’t do” he says, thumb running gently across your cheek, brow furrowed the slightest bit with worry. 

Your brow furrows too, for different reasons though. It’s embarrassing for him to see you like this, teary eyed and frustrated. This is the first time you’ve cried in front of him and you can’t help but think that it’s not for a good enough reason, that perhaps it’s tarnishing his view of you. Why break down over a bad day? Suddenly you feel foolish for being upset at all. A new well of emotion bubbles up and you look down, pointedly avoiding his gaze as hot tears fall free and you wish that the ground would swallow you up. 

“Mi alma” he sighs, leaning down to kiss your forehead as he thumbs away the tears. “Let’s go sit in the car, hm? The tow truck should be here soon and then I’ll take you home.” 

“An hour and a half isn’t really soon” you protest, scrubbing at your face with the sleeve of your cardigan when he lets you go. It’ good to see you don’t seem to have any more of that sobbing in you but even this little burst of feeling, still not completely quelled, has you feeling heavy and unhappy at the thought of another hour and a half of waiting. 

“The one I called,” he begins, opening the passenger side door for you, “should be here in ten minutes. Perhaps 15.” When you’re situated he shuts the door, seeming to ignore the bewildered expression on your face, and walks around to the other side of the car. 

It’s quiet for a second after he slides into the driver’s seat and you wonder what he might be thinking before you realize that might not be the best line of thought for your anxious mind. You fidget, unsure what to do or say or where to look, still calming, still worried and overwhelmed and unsure of what issue your brain is pulling up is most relevant in this moment, needs your attention most now. Your fingers twitch and twist against each other and you focus on them so hard you nearly miss the movement in your peripheral vision, another hand reached out towards you, silently offered. 

You lace your fingers together and pull your joined hands into your lap. He squeezes softly and you breathe deep, eyes closed as you focus on the feeling, the point of contact between you and him that’s grounding you. It’s amazing how much comfort he brings just being here, how things feel so much more manageable, so much more short term.   
Another deep breath and you open your eyes, smile a little at the sight of your hand in his. You don’t feel great, no, but you do feel better and still surprised.

“You called a tow truck?” you finally ask, tracing the back of his hand with nonsense patterns. 

“I did. They’ll take your car to a lot tonight and then to my mechanic in the morning.” 

“That’s… thank you. You didn’t need to though. I’m not… I don’t know when I’d be able to pay you back." You glance up at him in time to see a raised eyebrow directed your way.

“I don’t expect repayment,” he says simply and while you’re not wholly sure how you feel about that you can’t deny how relieved you’re also feeling. Car repairs would have knocked your budget pretty off track. It’s something you can discuss later at least, when you’re feeling better, have a clearer head. 

You laps into silence for a bit before he asks for your phone, calling to cancel the other tow while you rest your eyes and try to ignore the way they ache from strain. His voice is soothing in the background of your brain and when it disappears, call ended, you miss it for a moment till the squeak of pressure on leather replaces it and you feel his lips pressed gently to your temple. 

“Thank you,” you smile.

“Of course.”

The tow truck comes a few minutes later, you and Kandomere both sign off on the job, and with things settled on that front you can finally get on the road. It’s a few minutes shy of 10pm when the car gets going and you can really relax and quietly celebrate going home. 

You’re not quite sure when you fall asleep but you wake to Kandomere shaking your shoulder, his voice soft as he tries to rouse you. 

“May I walk you up?” he asks, and of course he can. Nothing sounds better than a few extra moments together. 

There’s no one else around when you make your journey through the lobby and the solitude emboldens you to grab onto his hand again, lean into his side. While you ride the elevator he leans down to kiss the top of your head and you feel some of the tension drop out of your body. 

“Are you still hungry?”

You feel your stomach gurgle in response to his question and nod, happy to see your door in sight as you start down the hallway. “I think there’s some leftovers in the fridge I can toss in the microwave” you muse aloud, excited by the prospect of food. 

“Or I could cook for you,” he offers.

“You’ve already done so much tonight though.”

“I’ve made two phone calls and a drive I was already anticipating. I’d do far more than that to see you smile.. And anyway, I enjoy cooking.” 

You feel your face heat up at his very matter of fact delivery of truly sweet sentiment and squeeze his hand, thankful to have such a lovely man in your life, holding your heart. 

“If you’re really sure,” you say, pausing from the hunt for your key to lean up and kiss his cheek. 

You show him where everything is in the kitchen, glad you actually took the time to tidy up and do dishes last night, and ask if you can grab him anything since that’s just what you’ve been trained socially to do. 

He pulls you close and leans down to kiss you, soft and chaste, a warm hand resting on the back of your neck. 

“Go relax, mi cielito. I will call if I need to.” 

He catches you gaze with his starlight eyes and your stomach flips again, heart full of affection. You lean up to kiss him again, arms tight around him in a hug that he leans into.

“Thank you, Kandomere” you breathe out against his shoulder.

“Of course,” he replies, pressing another kiss against the top of your head. 

You retreat to your room and then the shower, determined to wash away the day. Warm water and sweet soap sooth the ache in your neck and shoulders, the steam clears your head. By the time you’re done you feel like a totally new, very sleepy person, changed into a soft sweater and sleep shorts. 

Kandomere is busy setting your plates on the table when you pad into the kitchen and the sight of him makes your heart flutter, body filling with tingling warmth. He’s quite fetching as he normally is but the sight of him now, hair swept back, stripped down to a crisp white button up with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, standing so comfortably in your home has you feeling positively smitten.

“Feeling better?” he asks, gaze traveling to you. There’s a little tilt at the edge of his mouth, the beginnings of a smile you can’t help but to return with a nod. 

“Yeah.”

He beckons you over to the table, pulls out your chair, and sits across from you so that you can finally enjoy a meal together. Everything is delicious and the moment is peaceful. As concise as Kandomere is the conversation still flows nicely as the two of you catch up on the past week’s happenings. 

You’re feeling truly happy by the time the meal is done, the last tendrils of your bad day shaken loose by good food in your belly and good company in your home. You clear the table, insistent that you do the dishes since Kandomere was the one who cooked, and fill the sink with warm water. As you watch the surface ripple it comes to mind that you’re not ready for the evening to end. Despite your exhaustion you turn to regard your boyfriend shyly, brushing damp hands down the front of your sweater. 

“Wanna… watch a movie?” you ask when he fixes you with a questioning look. “Maybe cuddle for a while?” 

He smiles, full and earnest and you fell your heart race, your face flush with heat at the sight of it. 

“That sounds nice.”

The dishes get left to soak and the two of you relocate to your couch, a dumb romcom of your choosing playing on the tv. You tuck into his side, cuddled close, and enjoy the gentle touches that always come with his close proximity, his hand passing idly across your arm, the back of your hand, your hip and side, before coming to rest comfortably on your shoulder for a while. 

It’s not long till you’re asleep. 

Breathing soft and even, mind resting far away, you miss his gentle smile, the look of adoration in his eyes when he watches your sleeping face. How did he get so lucky, he wonders. How did he find you? His movements are careful when he finally stands, slips out of your loose grip, and gathers you into his arms. 

The way you mutter, perhaps in disagreement at being moved, makes him laugh a little, shushing you while he crosses the threshold into your room. You settle down once your back hits the mattress, curl into the warmth of sheets he pulls up over you. Somewhere far off you think you hear his voice, a soft whisper of something that sounds like “goodnight” and you mumble it back as best you can. 

He smooths down your hair, kisses your forehead, and goes on his way. 

In the morning you wake to a note in the kitchen, next to the sink that’s missing the dishes from last night. 

You can always call me.

A simple sentence that makes you feel so much and so loved. You fetch your phone and send him a text. 

_Thank you Kandomere <3_

_Of course._


	2. More Than Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week of affection shown in the gifts Kandomere gives. Often times they’re far more than things.

Monday is surprisingly grey and dreary for L.A. and your mood decides to match the weather. Work hits a lul and you find yourself bored and disinterested in whatever tasks you pick up. By the time your break rolls around you're wishing it was actually the end of shift but you're fine enough with settling into the break room with a snack and your cell phone.

    Two bites into granola bar your coworker calls you and you groan, anticipating an early call back to the front. You're just standing when they trott in, grinning over a bouquet of beautifully arrange flowers in a lovely vase.

    “Somebody's got an admirer!”

    They set the flowers on the table and point out the little card kept among the blooms with your name typed on it. You feel your heart flutter and pluck it up with gentle fingers, flipping it open to read the message inside.

_ To brighten your day. - _ K

     It would be hard to argue that the smile on your face isn't a little goofy, cheeks warm with the giddy joy suddenly filling you up. You plunk back onto the couch, letter clutch to your chest, and sigh happily.

    The rest of your day is a cheerful breeze, bright as the flowers you take home to lighten your living room.

    Tuesday you wake up late and scramble into work frazzled. When Kandomere texts you good morning and asks how you are you relay this to him, tone light despite your mild frustration. Work ticks on normally enough, the two of you texting back and forth when you have time.

**What time is your break?** He texts you a little before noon.

**About 1:30 if everything goes right. Only a 15 though.** You shoot back.

   He goes quiet after that but you figure work just picked up, wish him safety, and hope for the possibility of a phone call later. You saw him on Saturday but that already seems so far off. Time goes on and you daydream about him.

    At 1:28 your coworker calls you over. You've got a visitor apparently and you feel your heart racing in anticipation. You can't help the smile that comes when you see him.

   “Afternoon,” you grin, walking up to the blue haired elf.

    “Afternoon,” he replies, a slight smile on his face. “Do you have time for coffee?”

    It's now that you notice the drink tray and pastry bag he has in hand, bag and cups decorated with the logo of your favorite cafe several blocks down.

   “Definitely!” You chime, “you're a sweetheart you know.”

   He simply shrugs, following you out to find a patio table nearby. “I was in the area, thought you could perhaps use the caffeine,” he teases lightly.

  The coffee certainly helps keep you up but the 15 minutes you get together are what truly carry you through the rest of the day.

   Wednesday your laptop quits. It goes from working to blue screen to black and refuses to turn on again. It's a long time coming honestly, you've been putting off upgrading for years in a bid to save money but it's finally come back to bite you.

   You're glad to hear the files are recoverable when you go to see someone at Best Buy but they let you know you won't be getting any more use out of the CPU or frame. Small victories, you guess. Still laptops are expensive.

    Your looking at the cheapest possible replacements when Kandomere calls, a lul in work giving him time to talk to you, to let you know he's being made to take Friday off and ask if you would possibly want to go out for dinner then, have a proper date?

   The thought makes you feel a fuzzy, warm sort of happy and you answer in the affirmative before asking after his day.

   “The usual,” he says, as if there's anything usual about working to regulate and contain magic and magical items “yours?”

  “Eh,” you sigh, “laptop finally died. I'm sitting in a Best Buy parking lot right now.”

  “They're selling laptops in the parking lot?” His joke catches you so off-guard you snort a little when you laugh.

  “No silly, price checking. Laptops are expensive.”

   “What make would you like? I'll buy it.”

    “What no! Laptops are expensive!”

    “And?”

    “You fixed my car 2 months ago.”

    “And?”

    “I can't just... let you keep buying me things, can I? You'll start thinking I only keep you around for your money.” You keep your tone light but it's a legitimate worry.

    “I promise I won't,” he reassures you. “Does it really make you that uncomfortable?”

    “I mean no... Yeah…? I don't know, kinda?” you settle on.

    “Half then?”

     “What?”

    “Would half be acceptable? That way at least you won't be getting a cheap piece of junk.”

    “You think on it a moment. That would still be a few hundred dollars but…

     “Okay, half. I think I saw a nice one on sale for $600.”

     “Whatever you like, darling.” The note of amused affection in his voice and the pet name make you smile. You have a new laptop before 8 and a promise of date night for Friday.

    Thursday a package arrives at your house. It's wrapped plainly, an Amazon box stamped with  **Fragile** on the side, and you rack your brain trying to think of what it might be or when you last placed an order. It definitely has your name and address on it. A present? It's not your birthday though, not even near it, and there's no major holidays coming up either.

Cautious but also curious you grab a pair of scissors and cut into the tape with your face away from the box, peeking into it when it doesn't explode or start screaming.

    Whatever it is has been wrapped in brown paper and bubble wrap and surrounded by those air packing things. The fragile stamp was there for a reason then. What is this?

   You reach in and start to pull away the various layers of packaging until your prize emerges, your shoulders shaking with muffled laughter at what you find.

_   “My puns are koala tea” _ printed around a cute cartoon koala and a teacup on a coffee mug bigger than your fist. You'd seen the stupid thing online last weekend and laughed when Kandomere rolled his eyes at the pun and your declaration of, “You're pretty quality yourself!” You'd thought it was hilarious at least.

   “I can't believe…” You mutter to yourself, going to retrieve your phone. 

    Kandomere is fully expecting another inconvenience when his text tone breaks the relative silence of the room. Today has been mess after mess and he's anticipating more at this point. So, when he flips it face up and spies your name on the screen he lets himself feel a little more optimistic, and when he opens your message and is greeted by a snapshot of your smiling face he feels his spirits lift. And then he scrolls down, sees the mug in your hand, sees your photo's caption, 

**looks like I got a gift from quite the koala tea fellow~**

He lets himself huff a little laugh and text back

**You're welcome, hermosa.**

    Friday is a pleasant surprise. You love going out with kandomere but sometimes the places he takes you have you feeling a little out of your depth. People are always kind of course, or at least cordial, but the sheer amount of affluence present can make your head spin. With that in mind you've really enjoyed the night so far. Dinner was somewhere more low-key, a place of with a cozy atmosphere where you didn't feel compelled to dress like you were red carpet-ready and could pronounce most of the menu. It was nice to sit together and eat and talk about things that got missed in your Cliff Notes conversations on the phone and by the time you left you both felt light and warm and satisfied.

   Now you're riding along in the car, jamming to a playlist the two of you have been slowly building together, wondering where exactly it is you're going. You never would have taken Kandomere for someone who likes surprises but his smirking silence now makes that clear. 

    Wherever it is he says you like it and you don't doubt that. You trust him after all.

    You don't recognize the building you pull up to or the parking lot, but you note several other cars, other people parking and walking up. From the signs posted here and there you can guess that you're on a school campus, though **you're** not sure which one. Kandomere helps you out of the car, keeps his hand in yours while you approach the building. You see a lot of couples but some singles and small families too.

    “Okay but seriously, where-”

    His smile is frankly self-satisfied when you trail off, eyes catching the sign by the door you're approaching.

**Planetarium Shows Friday 8 p.m. and 10 p.m. $6 or $11 couples**

The happy noise you let out turn his smile fond.

    The kind young woman at the counter inside scans the qr code on his phone and directs you down the hall and up a set of stairs. The room you settle into is spacious and warm and you take your seats just a few minutes before the show starts. Watching the stars bloom beautifully around the room you feel your heart flutter when Kandomere reaches over and grabs your hand again. You lean into him smiling. It's a lovely night.

   Saturday you sleep in. His bed is soft and warm even without him in it and you're happy enough being able to hear him padding around his home. You press your face into his pillow, pulled close to your chest sometime after he’d gotten up, and inhale the scent of him. The butterflies in your stomach make you smile.

   You hear the bedroom door open, the soft approach of footfalls and perk up the slightest bit, turning over lazily to look up at Kandomere when he stops at your side.

   “Good morning, mi alma,” he says fondly, sitting by your side. “Breakfast?”

    “Sounds great” you hum sleepily, reaching up towards him to pat his cheek. “C’mere though.”

    He leans down at your urging, lips meeting yours in a soft, sweet kiss. His hair falls over his shoulders and tickles your cheeks enough that you find yourself giggling against his lips. Slowly he pulls away and your taken by his starlight gaze. His eyes are soft when he looks at you, adoring and gentle. 

   He presses another parting kiss to your forehead and stands, calling over his shoulder “come on, before it gets cold.”

   You take a moment longer to enjoy your warm cocoon, stretching arms and legs languidly between the duvet. When you finally emerge you have to take a moment to locate your clothing, no longer scattered on the floor as you'd left them but now folded neatly on the loveseat situated across the room. You pull your underwear on but pause a moment after, eyes catching on the blue button-up Kandomere had been wearing last night, settled beside your clothes. He wouldn't mind, right?

    He's already sitting at the table, scrolling through his phone with one hand, a fork full of eggs in the other. His back is to you and you take the opportunity to drape your arms over his shoulders and hug him, face pressed into his soft hair.

   He chuckles quietly when you press a solid smooch to the back of his head and then back off, walking around to the other side of the table. You hear him hum when you enter his line of sight.

    “Nice shirt.”

    “Thanks, just got it” you joke, twirling quickly before striking a silly pose.

    There's that fond smile again, setting your heart all aflutter. 

    “The color suits you.”

    You feel your cheeks warm at the compliment, ducking your face into a glass of water you find next to your plate. He always gets you, doesn't he?

   The two of you eat in companionable silence, discussing plans for the day over a shared load of dishes after. Mostly it boils down to cuddling on the couch, your body draped over his while you watch the movie one of your co-workers suggested. He's free today, or at least he's supposed to be.  

    His phone rings a little passed four, the noise distant to your half asleep mind. You come back slowly with the sound of his voice rumbling in your ears, it’s usual measured timbre underlined with slight annoyance at being disturbed. 

    “I’ll be in shortly then,” he says, hanging up a moment later. 

    “You gotta go?” you ask, voice husky with sleep.

    “It seems so. Come, get dressed. I’ll take you home first.” 

   You think to protest for a moment and then realize he wouldn’t offer if he didn’t have the time to. You raise yourself up off of him and the couch and follow him to get dressed propper. It’s a little hard not to get distracted watching him put his ensemble together, go from your lazy day boyfriend all soft at the edges to the striking MTF agent most know him as. He raises an eyebrow when he catches you staring a little too long and you decide it’ll be better if you’re facing the other direction while you pull the rest of your clothes on.

    “Where do you want this?” you ask finally, holding up the shirt you’d borrowed. 

     “Keep it, if you’d like. It looks good on you.” He says this as he finishes buttoning his suit and you can’t help but think that he looks much better by far in anything and everything he wears. You’re happy to keep the shirt though. 

    You kiss him before you slip out of his car, longer and harder than the usual goodbyes you give each other. Something about his sudden calls into work make you nervous, make you worry. Sometimes you forget a bit how dangerous his job is, for all his talk of paperwork and procedure. His hand is gentle on your cheek, thumb stroking softly against your skin.

    “Be safe,” you mutter against his lips.

    “I will,” he promises. 

    You watch his car disappear down the block before you head inside, missing him already. When you dress down again, up in your appartment, you slip on his shirt and manage a small smile. It smells like him, obviously, and you can almost pretend your lazy day didn’t have to end. He’s holding you in your dreams. 

    Sunday you worry. Evening rolls around without a peep from him, no good morning, no good night as the time creeps closer to 11 p.m. You realize that this isn’t the first time this has happened, sometimes he gets far too busy, has a case far too important, to use his phone for anything nonessential. You’re sure some days he probably doesn’t even think of you, and while that thought stings a little you reason that it’s not out of a lack of fondness. He’s a busy man with an important job. Still, tonight has you worried, has your stomach twisting in knots at the sound of every police siren that zooms by. Perhaps it’s because there’s been quite a few.

    The judge show you’ve been watching in an attempt to avoid looking at your phone or email cuts out suddenly to a special news report. There’s a hostage situation happening just a few miles away, a man threatening some dozen people if his demands aren’t met. Possible magic artifact on the scene, two officers already injured. 

    With every word from the newscaster, ever extra bit of information, you feel your anxiety grow. Is this what Kandomere is dealing with right now? Is he safe? Is he one of the officers injured? Or would they have said agent?  Did it matter? Is he okay?

     You’re torn for a moment between changing the channel and continuing to watch but decide leaving it on will only add more fuel to the fire that is your racing mind. It’s not as if you could do anything about it right?  You’d only be in the way, likely wouldn’t even be able to get near what was happening. And anyway, Kandomere was trained for these kinds of things, he knew what he was doing. He’d be fine…

    You change the channel back and forth a few more times before leaving it on the news once more. You feel nauseous either way. 

    The volume is most of the way down because you can feel a headache coming on, likely stress induced, a growing pain at the front of your skull. You’re wearing his shirt again, fingers of worrying at the hem while you try to sit still and calm yourself down. At some point you fetched your phone and now it sits in your lap, seemingly defiant in its refusal to give you news of the man you’re coming to love so dearly. 

    It’s cool in your hands when you pick it up but warms slightly with every up and down pass as you fidget, try to decide what to do. Is there even anything to do?

**Please be safe** you finally type out with shaking hands. 

    …

    …

    …

    Nothing in five minutes. You change the channel in favor of cooking shows. Ten minutes, you curl up on the couch. Thirty and you can’t count how many times you’ve looked at your phone. In an hour you’re fitfully dozing, jolting up at the slightest sound, the smallest of phantom sensation against your palm. Your heart is pounding unpleasantly, pulse an uncomfortable thrum, but you feel exhausted all the same. You’ve been worried about him before but for some reason this feels different, worse. You think you might cry but instead you tow the line, fists wrinkling the blue fabric where you clutch at it, bring the collar up to breathe in the soothing scent of him. It helps a little but you still feel a pang. 

    The soft vibration wakes you around 1:30 and you drop your phone in your disoriented surprise. It takes a second to fish it out from underneath your coffee table but once you do you feel your body slowly start to wind down from the fear you’d been feeling. 

**I am** is the simple reply on the screen, an answer to your earlier plea. It’s amazing how much easier it is to breath with that piece of mind and you slump back into the couch, tension draining from your body. You’re so tired. 

    Your phone buzzes again and you check the message, the first smile you’ve had in hours making its way onto your face. 

**May I stay with you tonight? I’m closer to your home than mine.**

As much as you’d like to fall right asleep you’re sure you can stay up a bit longer to let him in.  **Of course** , you shoot back, and decide to start a pot of tea to keep yourself up, it’s ready by the time you hear a knock at your door. 

     He looks exhausted when you finally see him, bags under his eyes more pronounced, hair slightly disheveled, suit wrinkled. You notice the slight pinch in his brow and think he’s probably making the same assessment of you, a certified hot mess after an entire day of worrying. You can’t help the look on your face, smile tired and worried but still there and full of adoration. 

    “Hey,” you say, taking his face in your hands gently. 

     “Darling,” he sighs, lips pressing against yours. 

     You offer him tea but he declines, asking after your shower instead. You listen to the sound of running water and the chug of your washing machine from the couch. He gets out just after you toss the laundry, you can’t wash his suits but his underwear are cotton at least, into the dryer. You set it to time dry and follow him into your room. 

    “Candy?” you ask, surprised at the sight of Kandomere perched at the edge of your bed unwrapping a chocolate bar.   

    “It’s been a long day,” he shrugs and motions to the pillow on your prefered side of the bed. “For you too, it seems.” You certainly hadn’t expected to be brought your favorite candy tonight but there it was.

    You pick it up and get into bed, turning to thank him when you see the large bruise starting to darken on his back. It makes your heart ache, seeing him hurt, remembering that despite his strength and resilience he’s still mortal, still breakable. You put the candy on your bedside table and scoot up behind him, careful of the bruise when you wrap gentle arms around him. 

    “Thanks hon,” you say softly. “I think I’ve got all the Kandy I could ever want right here though.” 

    You can’t see his face but you’re sure he’s smiling, breath coming out in an amused little huff. He takes one of your hands in his and kisses it, thumb stroking your skin gently. It’s a nice moment, quiet and calm after a day of anxiety. You pull back first, slipping under the covers, and he follows suit, pulling you close. 

    You curl into his chest, forehead pressed near his heart so that you can feel its steady beat. He’s here, alive and breathing and safe, real under your fingertips. His hands slide slowly up and down your back, gentle and soothing, lulling you to sleep. 

    “Night, Kandomere,” you mumble, pressing a kiss to his chest before you drift away. 

    “Good night, mi amor,” is his whispered answer.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second love language story~ Still not a drabble but whatever. Proof reading happened at 1am so forgive me for mistakes. I’ll probs come back to edit soon. Thanks for the kudos, bookmarks, and comment~ Hope you continue to enjoy!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thanks for reading. If you're interested in the headcannons this series will be based on check out my tumblr by the same name, anywaffle~ Didn't mean for this first chapter to be so long so no gaurantee the others will be and sorry for any awkwardness in the writing, I've been out of the game for a while cx Hopefully things will get better with time! Thanks for reading!


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